best day in the best job

Today I made bread rolls and tacos and carrots and chillies out of play dough and sold them for toy money. Then I watched a magic show and was delighted by the incredulous laughter of a room full of primary school children. After which I cosied up with a few girls from Grade 6 and knitted my way through lunch.

The life of a school chaplain. So tough!

(I think I might have the best job in the world)

warm welcome

It's pretty cold right now - we've just endured one of the coldest days I can remember in this part of the world. No snow here, but plenty falling nearby I imagine. To keep warm I've snuggled into a delicious possum and merino jacket and cooked up a pot of parsnip and apple soup.

Then I remembered what took place last weekend and it warmed the cockles of my heart!

Since February I have been working each Tuesday and Wednesday as a chaplain in a local primary school. I love it. This is the most enjoyable, rewarding job I have ever had. In some ways I don't think of it as a job at all... I bounce out of bed feeling excited to head into the school and hang out with the kids. They are beautiful children and we have a load of fun together.

Not that life is easy for them. It's not the richest part of town, literally and figuratively on the wrong side of the tracks, the unfortunate result of long past public housing policies, but often I see more maturity and resilience in some of these kids than I have observed in some of the adults I know on the right side of the tracks. I feel deeply honoured to work with these children, to provide a stable, caring presence who takes an interest in the story of their lives.

So last Sunday I was excited to participate in the official 'Welcome the Chaplain' event we held in the local community hall. People came from local churches, school children performed a couple of songs and a skit and after an official prayer we ate yummy food together.

Before you start picturing an ordered, polished event I should add that this was one of the most riotous, colourful affairs I have attended. One of my friends described it as 'random'. Usually distant children swarmed around me, pulling me hither and thither, offering effusive hugs, clambering to sit next to me for the service. Those who could not fit with me jumped all over Frank and settled into his lap. Out of the blue a group of African refugees sang a gospel song before two girls dressed as chalk and cheese ran out to lead a skit on healthy lifestyles. There was noise, mayhem and joy, spontaneity and laughter. Such a contrast to the regular services I attend. Somehow more earthy and real. A true expression of the community. I loved it.

So now I am officially a chaplain... I think for tax purposes I might even be considered clergy. Wild. Here is some (hideous) photographic proof. (Never let it be said I am vain...)

Now that all the energetic hoo-ha has settled down I am even more convinced of how much I love this job, how glad I am to be in there loving those kids, and that my role is as an instrument of God's love.

As I said... warms the cockles of my heart!

winded

I shouldn't be surprised - that's how life goes. Someone even captured it in a silly little ditty:

First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Mary with a baby's carriage.

Or: first comes love, then comes shacking up, now here's Myrtle with a baby's carriage.

Or: first a one night stand, then a baby's carriage plus a whole parcel of accompanying dilemmas.

Whichever the route, male and female match ups frequently result in children. This is not news. It is not shocking.

But still, I was shocked. So shocked I felt winded. As if I had been punched in the stomach.

Friends unwittingly informed me of three pregnancies in three sentences. And why wouldn't they inform me? How could they possibly be aware of my secret pain when I was barely aware of it myself. I had no idea how I would be affected by the unexpected news. They might even have thought my lack of immediate response could be attributed to concentrating on driving rather than sitting in stunned silence.

I thought I was doing alright with the whole 'we can't have children right now' thing - I've been working on a positive attitude and sometimes I can sense circumstances changing sufficiently that children might happen for us too.

But I was completely unprepared, and I am not alright, and my head is spinning and I feel my world has crumpled a little and I want to cry because my situation seems hopeless while others remain blissfully unaware of the inordinate blessing of being able to conceive without difficulty, because as the ditty says, it just happens.

I'll catch my breath and stop feeling sorry for myself soon. I'll remember the incredible blessings that shower my life. I'll find strength to choose to appreciate the beautiful moments without mourning the empty space where a child might sit.


Just breath Cecily, breath. In... and out... in... and out...

Catch your breath honey, it will be alright.